The Office Well, I'm ashamed...

The Office Well, I'm ashamed to admit this, but Michael Scott behaves pretty much exactly like I do when I've suffered any kind of mild injury. If there's pain involved, my melodrama knows no bounds. And while I've never managed to burn my own foot on a George Foreman Grill, I do have some vague memories of trying to fall asleep with my thumb in a glass of ice water after a bad experience with a frozen pizza. (Yes, yes, I know now that you're not supposed to use ice on a burn. You're not supposed to put butter on it, either, Michael. Even if it is Country Crock.) Oh, and speaking of Michael's change of heart in the buttering-his-foot debate, how hilarious is it that at first he said there was no need for it, since he burned himself on a nonstick grill? That slayed me. Almost as much as when Pam told Michael he seemed "a little fussy" let me put it this way: If pink was Julia Roberts' signature color in Steel Magnolias, "fussy" is my signature emotion. Seriously, ask around.

Dwight's Flowers for Algernon-esque head trauma (also) had me in absolute stitches, from Pam's horror at realizing that the less-obnoxious Concussion Dwight was "kind of" her friend, to Jim spraying him with a water bottle to keep him awake (or to stop drinking Meredith's hooch), like a cat who's not supposed to be on the couch. And Pam's farewell hug for her soon-to-disappear pal? Adorable.

Oh, and let me take this opportunity to welcome Pam herself, Jenna Fischer, to our humble little corner of the Net. If you haven't perused her inaugural blog yet, by all means, check it out. If it's humanly possible, you'll be even more in love with her once you've finished reading.